


Safe for Once

by theseriousmoonlight



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, major fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 15:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20659364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theseriousmoonlight/pseuds/theseriousmoonlight
Summary: What follows after the bus stops.(just a baby ficlet)





	Safe for Once

**Author's Note:**

> *Michael Sheen nerd voice* Hulloooo!! This is my ~first ever~ published fan work, I'm really excited to put it out there! I know it's very short and very fluffy, but literally it was 3am after weeping over the last episode of GO, okay
> 
> Anyway, since this is my official introduction into the Ao3 world, please let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy my angst over these immortal lovebirds (..nightingales)

They got off the bus in front of Crowley’s flat. It had started to rain, the unforgiving kind of rain, and Crowley pushed open the door to his building and walked up the stairs two at a time, but missing some of his usual bounce for perhaps tentativeness.

Aziraphale followed behind, not wanting to be left out in the oncoming storm.

Crowley swung open the door to his rooms. Aziraphale was at once taken aback by the volume of plants in the living area.

Crowley stood next to him at the door and observed him soaking in the room. “Fancy a drink?” he asked, shutting the door softly so as not to disturb Aziraphale’s rapture.

“Oh, actually yes, that would be quite nice,” he said, and began to shrug off his damp coat to hang it on Crowley’s hat stand by the door. 

Crowley pulled two wooden chairs up to his circular table and snapped two glasses and a few decanters of whiskey into existence. “You always know what I feel like drinking,” Aziraphale remarked, settling into a chair opposite Crowley and pouring himself a small glass. 

After a few glasses drunk in silence, Crowley fixed his stare to the bottom of his glass and said, “We saved it, then. For at least another 11 years.” 

Aziraphale nodded in agreement. Neither really knew what conversation to make.

More time and whiskey whiled away in the quiet. Aziraphale yawned. “Oh, dear…”

Crowley looked up. “You’re getting tired too?”

“Yes, but…” Worry crossed the angel’s face. “Oh, I just hoped I wouldn’t be tired, I’m really not very often, I hardly sleep at all. It figures I would be now my bookshop’s gone and...” he involuntarily trailed off into another yawn, but there was sadness in his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it, angel, I didn’t expect you to be awake all night. I mean, it’s been one bloody mess of a day. Take my bed and I’ll take the couch.” Crowley said, getting up from the table.

“Oh, Crowley, are you sure? I mean, you must be exhausted as well.” worried the angel.

“Naw, really it’s no trouble.” said Crowley halfheartedly. “Come on, follow me.”

Aziraphale stepped lightly with an anxious air as Crowley showed him to the only room in the flat with a bed. The sheets were gray and the walls were cool, and the whole place washed over Aziraphale with a wave of calm. 

He stepped into the room, Crowley leaning against the doorframe. “This is quite nice Crowley…” Aziraphale remarked, trailing off and looking around at the walls, still half-facing the demon but directing his eyes anywhere but Crowley’s. 

“Glad you like it. I’ll be just down the hall should you need anything.” Crowley said blankly, and turned to go, eyes on the floor.

Aziraphale took a shallow breath. “Crowley?”

The demon turned around, his hand on the doorframe. He met the angel’s eyes.

“Would you… would you stay? Please?”

Crowley’s eyes softened.

“I just… well, I… you see I find it difficult to be alone, and I-” Aziraphale was extremely nervous. He was wishing he never said anything, and was just about to tell Crowley to forget he had.

But the demon spoke first. “It’s all right, Aziraphale. ‘Course I will.”

Crowley’s heart seemed to restart. He sat on the end of the bed and took off his shoes. It took Aziraphale a second to register that he should do the same. Crowley laid down on his back, hands folded over his stomach, and Aziraphale, once he had untied his bowtie, took the other side of the bed, though there wasn’t much room. 

Crowley turned on his side slightly to look into the angel’s eyes. “You know you don’t have to be ashamed, or feel guilty, or any of that. Those are the sorts of things that heaven tells you to think.”

Aziraphale shifted ever so slightly to face him. He considered this, and he realized Crowley was right.

“I didn’t want to be alone tonight either, angel, but I wasn’t the one who had the nerve to say something.” He smiled hopefully at the angel, who felt a lot better now and smiled back. 

“I don’t really know what I’d do without you, Crowley.”

“Neither do I.”

Aziraphale reached out a hand, and placed it gently upon the demon’s. He closed his eyes, and Crowley gazed at the angel’s face as if it were the most beautiful masterpiece. And of course, it was. He meshed his fingers with Aziraphale’s, and softly nestled his face in the angel’s hair. He was glad for once, safe for once, full for once.

**Author's Note:**

> Hullo again, I hope you share my pain at fluff like this not being in the series :,)) 
> 
> I'm considering doing a longer work, in my best Neil Gaiman style, with lots of angst and an actual plotline... lmk if you think I should! Love you all!


End file.
